


Along the coach roads I did ride

by TaleWeaver



Series: Drops of Rain [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, but no one actually remembers the past lives, joffrey is always a dick, jon and sansa will fall in love in any timeframe, pistol wielding of both kinds, reincarnation;, some people just keep hanging out together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Sansa calls it kidnapping, Joffrey calls it eloping.  The Highway Crow just wants everything of value in the coach.





	Along the coach roads I did ride

**Georgian Era (late 1700's)**

Sansa held onto the coach strap with one tired hand, swaying with the motion of the lumbering vehicle. Unfortunately, they were making excellent time on the route; Joffrey had set a faster pace than anyone sensible would have dared, ever since he'd dragged her from the Lannister's London mansion just before dawn.

On the other hand, the rapid clip meant that they hadn't stopped anywhere longer than the time needed to change teams. So at least Sansa didn't have to risk anyone outside the coach witnessing her present state. She once again resisted the nervous urge to smooth the white linen that covered her thighs - she really didn't want to draw Joffrey's attention to her body.

Sitting next to her was Lady Valery, a minor Lannister cousin. Despite having a good share of the trademark Lannister beauty, she was known mostly for her high-pitched, grating voice, which she used for constant vapid chatter in times of calm and flamboyant hysterics in times of crisis. It was no mystery in the Polite World that she was unmarried, the speculation about Lady Valery was more along the lines of why no one had yet had her quietly killed. Fortunately, she was feeling sick from the motion of the carriage, despite her earlier claims of much travel experience. She declared it was from riding backwards.

A gentleman should have let the ladies ride facing forwards, but Joffrey had immediately taken the better seat for himself and refused to share it. Which was a good indicator of his personality in general.

"We should be in Scotland by sunset," Joffrey sneered. "Excellent timing, don't you think, Sansa? We'll have the whole night to celebrate our marriage."

Sansa simply looked at him steadily, then realised she could no longer bear to keep a dignified silence. "Unless a wheel breaks. Given how hard you've been pushing the carriage, it's not out of the realm of possibility. We're also about to enter the Border hills, which are quite notorious for highwaymen."

"Oh!" exclaimed Lady Valery. "Like the Highway Crow! I read that when he stopped the Tyrell coach on the way in to London from Highgarden, all of Lord Tyrell's family were dripping in jewels. And I heard later," she confided, "that he offered to let them keep the famous Tyrell Rose necklace if Lady Margaery gave him a kiss! Mind you," Valery sneered, "given how low that girl wears her decollatage - in public, no less! - I rather think she was happy to give him a great deal more than a kiss!"

"Keep quiet!" snapped Joffrey. "You will not speak of the Tyrells so, especially Lady Margaery!"

Sansa eyed Joffrey, and wondered. She'd noticed Joffrey's reaction on being introduced to 'Maid Margaery', and it looked as if his infatuation with her had only increased since. She personally thought the Lady deserved better - no matter how low she wore her necklines.

Valery pouted slightly, then turned towards Sansa and added, "Though, I've heard he's ever so handsome, and he only wears black and rides a great white stallion! Mockingbird's latest column in 'The Times' said that he's robbed the carriages of no less than four great houses! Joffrey was so clever to take an unmarked carriage!"

"Grandfather was happy to loan us his special carriage," Joffrey replied. "Especially considering the... **value**... of our cargo."

Sansa held back a pert reply with difficulty.

Valery continued, "When he took the Postal Carriage-"

A great thump came from overhead. Sansa's head snapped up, as she followed the sound of what she could swear were swift footsteps - on the carriage roof? - followed by a smaller thump. The carriage swayed alarmingly for several moments, before coming to a swift and hard stop. Valery was abruptly thrown forward, and landed on Joffrey with a shriek. Sansa, who'd prudently tightened her grip on the strap and braced her feet at the first thump, winced at the violent wrench to her shoulder.

A loud rapping came on the window shutter, and Joffrey, after all but tossing Valery to the floor, trod on her skirts in order to fling up the shutter.

"Driver, what is -"

Whatever he'd intended to say was silenced by the flintlock pistol pointed at his face. The man holding it seemed to be dressed all in black, and sat upon a white horse.

"And he rode a pale horse, and his name was Death!" gasped Lady Valery in fear. "It's the Highway Crow!"

Sansa refrained from rolling her eyes with an effort. Typical Lannister. Couldn't even quote the Holy Book correctly.

"Everyone out of the coach," came the order, spoken in a Northern burr.

Joffrey actually held onto his typical swagger as he climbed out of the coach. Valery swiftly followed, and managed to whimper in fear **and** flutter her eyelashes flirtatiously at the same time.

Sansa looked down at herself, grimaced, and silently cursed in words sure to send her Lady Mother into a fit. She knew she had to leave the coach, but...

"I said everyone!"

With great reluctance, Sansa stood and climbed down to the road.

The highwayman stared at her blatantly.

Sansa couldn't really blame him.

"I must congratulate you, Sir," the highwayman said flatly. "You've found a most tolerant wife, if she allows you to bring along a whore to while away your journey."

Joffrey snorted, "She's not my wife-"

"I'm no whore!" Sansa exclaimed at the same time, making their voices blend and blur.

"You must be right cold," came another voice from above. "I hope you charged him extra for that."

Sansa's gaze shifted to the roof of the carriage, where the coachman laid sprawled on his bench, presumably unconscious. Next to him stood a man with a shock of bright red hair, and an equally red and bushy beard, holding a blunderbuss to his shoulder.

Sansa eyed the weapon carefully. Granted, the weapon must have been old, but it looked shiny and well cared for. Also, her hunting-mad sister Arya had an irritating habit of rattling off random facts about guns and shooting, and Sansa seemed to remember that a blunderbuss was a short-ranged musket, so would probably be more accurate at this distance than a service musket or one of those rifle thingies from the New World.

Sansa spat out, "This wasn't my idea!"

She wrapped her arms around herself, and glared at Joffrey. She couldn't really blame a stranger for making rude assumptions, unfortunately. After all, she was wearing nothing but camisole, pantaloons, stockings, and half-boots. That rat bastard Joffrey hadn't even allowed her the dignity of her stays and a petticoat or two!

The man on the horse grunted, and plunged his free hand into his greatcoat pocket. White cloth flew through the air to land on Joffrey's head, and Sansa stifled the urge to snicker as Joffrey peeled the drawstring bag from his face.

"Fill it," instructed the highwayman roughly. Then cocked the pistol with a loud 'click'.

Joffrey curled his lip, and started to empty his pockets. A quick glare at Valery prompted her to begin removing her jewelry, with much dramatic sighing and snuffling tears. Joffrey made an elaborate show of slowly removing his pocketwatch and purse, possibly waiting for the coachman to stir.

"Don't forget your cufflinks," Sansa said spitefully. "And your snuffbox."

Joffrey glared at her, and Sansa glared right back. Their visual deadlock was broken by a loud 'Hi-ya!', as two of the horses ran into the field nearby. The red-haired man must have unhitched them during Joffrey's dramatic turn.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's the lot," Joffrey sneered, privately admitting that his dwarf uncle had had a point; carrying small purses with throwaway amounts of coin had been clever. "Take it and leave."

"I intend to," chuckled the dark-haired man. "And I'll be taking her as well."

Valery gasped and rapidly fanned herself with her hand.

Sansa, on the other hand cried out, "Like Hell!"

She took one step backwards, then another, as the white horse walked closer. His brown eyes laughed at her, causing her already flushed cheeks to deepen to furious pink. Suddenly the horse made a quick turn around her, and the rider leaned over, curved a strong arm around her midriff and scooped her up. In spite of her struggles the horse remained steady on its feet long enough for Sansa to be dragged up to sit sideways in front of the highwayman. Sansa pummelled him with her angry fists, to no effect.

The rider dodged the blows easily, pulling a silk neck-cloth out of a coat pocket, and swiftly tying her hands securely in front of her. "That should keep you manageable until we're back at camp."

Sansa glared at the highwayman's face with such fury that he should have burst into flames. "You'll pay for this," she threatened. "Kidnapping is a crime as well as robbery under arms."

"Really? Do you think someone would pay to get you back? Easy women usually come cheap."

Sansa shrieked wordlessly, and the white horse sidestepped uneasily. The strong arms of his rider hauled her back against his hard chest, and with a mocking salute to Joffrey, the highwayman cantered away, the hoofbeats not loud enough to drown out a last indignant cry from Sansa. The redheaded giant had long disappeared, everyone's attention being held by the dark haired-man and his prisoner.

Joffrey watched his prize being taken away, and ground his teeth. He had a suspicion that Sansa's last utterance of "Coward!" had not been meant for the highwayman.

Valery wailed, "But Joffrey, whatever shall we do-"

Joffrey promptly backhanded her. Partly to relieve his frustrations, but mostly because he couldn't stand her bloody hysterics. Even those two stupid highwaymen knew better than to take this idiot. Too bad they didn't know half the family would have paid them to take her away.

"Coachman! Check our supplies and luggage. One of you will have to take one of the remaining horses back to the last village and arrange for another carriage, or do you think it will be quicker to find and catch those bloody horses? Wolf-bitch or not, we have to make the border tonight to complete my Grandfather's mission. We can get some of our mercenaries to track down that camp he mentioned on the way back."

The driver's voice came from the top of the carriage. "Lord Joffrey, we have a problem."

"What is it?"

The driver's head poked over the edge of the carriage. "The special compartment - it's empty."

"What!?" Joffrey gasped. "Tell me you mean the one underneath your seat."

"No, my Lord. The special reinforced one - the one carrying the load your Grandfather requested."

Joffrey went bone white, and kept himself standing upright with an effort. The kidnapping and wedding of Sansa Stark had been meant to serve more than one purpose - not just to secure a politically powerful heiress as his bride, but as a distraction. The secret compartment had held four bags, each containing 100 gold dragons, payment from Tywin Lannister to a Border Lord for business that even Joffrey knew better than to ask the details of.

Joffrey cursed his rotten luck. Then cursed it again, aloud, in such foul language that his idiot cousin swooned melodramatically, and gave herself a knock on the head hitting the road because no one cared enough to bother catching her.

***

For some time Sansa held herself rigidly and straight-backed as possible, her captor's soft chuckle of amusement notwithstanding. Despite her situation, however, she felt no fear.

"Why don't you relax?" he suggested in a deep Northern rumble. His breath caressed her earlobe, and as she shivered Sansa cursed her traitorous body for it's reaction.

"I don't really think relaxing is the proper response in these circumstances," she snapped, and proceeded to ignore him.

The highwayman chuckled again, and slid a strong pale hand into the neckline of her camisole. Sansa gasped, as the pad of his thumb teased her hard nipple, his thick fingers fondling the soft globe of her breast. She could feel the hard pressure of his erection against her thigh, and Sansa shivered as the place between her legs started to throb.

The road was well out of sight, and they had started heading into the hills, the trees enclosing and shielding them from sight. With a groan, the highwayman's hand left Sansa's breast and moved between her thighs, finding the opening of her pantaloons to delve into her cunt, already saturated with need.

Jon shuddered with the force of his desire, and bit back a broken gasp. It had been far too long since he'd taken a woman to bed, and he craved this red-haired beauty more than any woman before her. He wanted her **now** , not in an hour when they reached their destination. The temptation to stop, climb off Ghost and take her against a tree was almost, but not quite powerful enough to override his caution. It was too soon, and they were too near the road, to be safe from pursuit if that fucking Lannister wanted his reluctant bride enough to overcome his cowardice.

When he brought his horse to a halt, Sansa glanced up at him curiously. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he grinned at her. "It's too risky to stop here, but I really can’t wait any longer."

His left arm was supporting her back, the left hand gripped the reins. His right hand darted down to undo his belt and open his trousers, releasing his iron-hard cock. Gently laying the reins on Ghost's neck to give them room, he lifted Sansa's leg and turned her to face him. Sansa's eyes widened as she quickly caught on, and she lifted her bound wrists over his head. Jon gripped her lovely arse with both hands and shifted her into position over his cock. She gasped at the first touch of his erection against her moist opening, then sighed as he eased her down his shaft.

For Sansa, her pleasure came from the wonderful pressure of him, filling her to the brim and stimulating all the places inside that had been deprived for so long. For Jon it was in the hot wet welcome of her cunt, gripping him tightly. For a moment they remained still, both revelling in their joining, as well as the simple pleasure of being held in loving arms.

Jon was very glad he'd ordered Tormund to take another route to their meeting place - he could only imagine the Wildling's roar of laughter and raucous comments at the sight of the two of them, locked together in lust.

Jon supported Sansa with an arm around her back, caught up the reins and urged Ghost into a slow jog.

"Seven Hells!" exclaimed Sansa clinging to Jon for all she was worth. The horse's gait set their bodies into rhythmic, rocking motion, and with no effort from either of them, Jon's shaft stroked to the very depths of Sansa's cunt. It was the most erotic coupling Sansa had ever experienced, but Jon had been celibate for too long and Sansa's sheath was too deliciously tight and receptive. With a muttered oath he shot his load, and the answering flood of warm juices over his cock told him that his partner had also climaxed.

The muscles of Sansa's quim clenched in spasms around his shaft as wave after marvellous wave of delight wrenched through her body. When the shimmers of pleasure faded, she lifted her head to meet her lover's eyes.

Jon was grinning like a madman, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Could you untie me now?"

"You do it to me often enough," he countered. "If this is the effect being tied has on you, I'll have to do it more often."

Sansa brought her hands back over Jon's head, and attacked the loose knot with her teeth. "Thank you for using silk instead of rope," she muttered indistinctly.

Jon brought her newly-freed hand to his lips, brushing a kiss along the back of her wrist; no rope burns marred her ivory skin. "I couldn't ever bring myself to harm you."

Sansa settled her arms around her lover's shoulders in a more comfortable grip. "Well, the Highway Crow won't ever need to hold up another coach, so you won't have to risk that again."

Jon remarked, "The Highway Crow has never actually held up a coach at all."

Sansa sighed happily. "I love rumours. They're so easy to spread. A few carefully placed articles in the newspapers, letting a friend be overheard by just the right people and you have all the necessary players on hand for a nefarious plot. I think I'll miss the Highway Crow, actually - so dark and dashing, mysterious-" she nipped at his earlobe with her teeth "-and seductive. Jon Snow would never fuck a woman on horseback."

Jon snickered. "Jon Snow would fuck **his** woman-" he snuck his hand between their bodies, and tweaked her still-erect nipple "-anywhere and everywhere she wants him to." A moment later, he added, "Still can't quite believe we just did that. Still can't quite believe you let me! I'm a bastard and therefore a lust-ridden beast, but you? Seven Hells, what happened to my proper Lady?"

"Watching you hold that pistol on Joffrey made my knees go weak. I was ready to drag you off the horse and beg you to take me against the coach."

"Damn. Maybe we should have stolen the coach, too. Made Joffrey and his bootlickers walk back to Casterly Rock."

Sansa sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder contentedly, "No, this is better."

"Tormund had no problems emptying the secret compartment you told us about; hopefully there's enough in there that our share can keep us for awhile."

"I caught a glimpse of him. How many bags were there? I've never known a Lannister to travel without gold; even if the bags are full of silver stags there should be enough for us to disappear for months. Would Tormund be willing to take a message to Robb and Mother, to tell them I'm free?"

"He can take it or arrange it," Jon reassured her. Much as he loved their family, he had no intention of going anywhere near the rest of the Starks until he and Sansa were so thoroughly married there was no chance that Robb could get any ideas about using her hand in marriage as a political tool.

Sansa shivered from a stray breeze, and Jon wrapped his arms more snugly around her for warmth. All the clothing she'd smuggled out to him was waiting at the drop-off point Sam had arranged; another few miles, and they could risk stopping long enough to get out his cloak.

Twitching the tails of his coat over her calves, still pressed against his, Jon said indignantly, "I can't believe the lion-dung made you travel in your undergarments. He was that afraid of you escaping him?"

"I'll admit, I wasn't expecting these lengths - he must be very much in need of my dowry, or my claim to Winterfell. Highly effective, though. I wouldn't dare appeal to any bystanders for help in this condition."

"But you were far too clever for him, beloved," Jon smiled, kissing her temple. "I must confess, seeing you like this utterly destroyed my self-control."

"I can tell," Sansa laughed. "But my self-control is nothing to speak of either, evidently. I hope Ghost doesn't mind us doing this on top of him, because I’d absolutely love to try this again. How far is it to Gretna Green?"

"Too far, it feels like. I'm glad you like this position, my love, because I'm not pulling out of you until we're due to meet Tormund in an hour or so. I've spent far too long away from your arms."

"Arms?" Sansa giggled. She wiggled her hips slightly, and added, "Don't you mean my quim?"

"Both," Jon groaned. By the old Gods, he was already starting to harden again. If things continued in this fashion, his legs might not be able to hold him up long enough to get their marriage ceremony done.

**I was a highwayman, along the coach roads I did ride  
Sword and pistol by my side**   
**Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade**   
**Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade**   
**The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty five**   
**But I am still alive**   
**\- "Highwayman", Willie Nelson**

**Author's Note:**

> Historical note: Following the old coach route from London to Edinburgh, Gretna Green is the first village in Scotland. From the mid-1700's, it became infamous as THE place for runaway couples to elope to, after Lord Hardwicke's 1754 Marriage Act meant that parents could legally veto a marriage for a person under 21. Scotland allowed boys to marry at 14 and girls at 12, and allowed a declaration by the couple before two witnesses to be enough for a legally binding ceremony. Basically, it was the Georgian Era's version of running off to Vegas. Gretna Green is still one of the most popular wedding destinations in the world today.
> 
> Artistic License, clothing: After I wrote the love scene, I wanted to factcheck what Sansa's undergarments were made from... and found out that underpants, even the long baggy kind, weren't very widely worn until the 1800's. Before then, both men and women just wore a chemise (shaped like a long shirt). But honestly, Sansa would probably get some saddlesore in very uncomfortable places in just a chemise, so I decided to leave her in the original garments. I may also have been too lazy to change it. Which I shall deny if asked.
> 
> Author commentary: And yes, Ghost is a horse in this incarnation; he considers it a distinct downgrade, but at least he can be with Jon (and Sansa) in this lifetime.


End file.
